


Hey, I Heard You Were A Wild One

by sweetbutterbliss



Series: Wild One [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Arthur, Cheating, First Meetings, Gaslighting, Homophobic Language, Jealous Eames, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur thinks that his asshole boyfriend, Robert, is his only option. That is, until he meets a handsome stranger outside a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in any fandom. Please be gentle. I am beta-less so if anyone finds any errors please feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy it because I think I'd like to write more. Also any brit-picking would be helpful too.

Eames huddles into the warmth of his black hoodie, and leans against the brick wall of the alley. He can feel, more than hear, the heavy bass coming from inside the club, vibrating against his fingertips. He digs around in the pocket of his jeans, before pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a green lighter. The kind that, if you turn it the right way, a naked lady appears. He pulls out a fag with his teeth and leans forward, curling around it against the wind, and lights it. He lets out the first drag with a sigh of appreciation, followed greedily by the second and third. His break is only supposed to be fifteen minutes, but he can usually manage to smoke at least two before going back in to smile, flirt, and sling drinks to half dressed customers and their dates.

 

He's interrupted by the banging open of the heavy metal door leading into the alley. He looks up, ready to yell at Yusuf about having at least ten more minutes so he can just sod off. But, instead of his curly haired, frowning co-worker, there's a slim, dark haired, frowning customer. He pauses at the top of the stairs, looking around like he might be lost. Eames sighs, thinking of the write up they'd receive if customers were caught wandering around behind the bar.

 

"Oi! You can't be back here." He drops his cigarette butt to the ground, and uses his heel to crush it out.

 

The man, maybe boy actually, looks young, with wide dark eyes and hair curling loosely in his face. He seems startled to see anyone else and clambers down the stairs. His movements loose and a little clumsy, Eames can tell there's a natural grace there, underneath the drunken stumbling. The boy makes his way to Eames and cocks his hip up against the wall. The scowl on his face looks out of place, as though he's playing a part. Eames can't help but smirk at him. Up close, he's maybe a little older than Eames thought at first glance, so he upgrades him to at least 18.

 

It might be wishful thinking though, since he's well fit; his jeans are low slung, and his t-shirt rides up, showing a sliver of hipbone and dark hair. He also looks rather bendy, for lack of a better world. He'll feel bloody pervy if it turns out that this kid is too young.

 

"Why can't I be out here? It's a free country isn't it?" His voice is deep, and only slurring a little around the edges.

 

"I suppose it is that. " He retrieves a second smoke. "Eames," he mumbles around it, and offers the pack to his new friend.

 

"Arthur. Nice to meet you." He places the smoke between his lips, and leans forward, waiting, as though this is a film noir and he's the hard nosed dame. He raises one eyebrow in question. Eames smiles and lights it for him. This close, he can see glitter and sweat shimmering across Arthur's collarbones. Without thinking, he reaches over with his thumb, and swipes it across Arthur's skin, bringing his fingers back into the light to see them sparkle. Arthur laughs, and Eames' breath catches in his throat at the sound and the dimples that appear on Arthur's face.

 

"So you work here or something?"

 

"Mmmm...yeah. Or something." He leans forward. "I actually own it, yeah? Not a bartender, just play one on telly." 

 

"You do not." Arthur puts his cigarette out against the brick, and flicks it away into the darkness.

 

"Don't believe me then. Your condescension is very much appreciated. " He shrugs and licks his lips, not missing how Arthur's eyes track the movement. "Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn't you be inside, dancing your little twink heart out."

 

Arthur's eyes narrow into glaring slits. "Twink. If I'm a twink then you're one shave away from a bear." 

 

It punches a surprised laugh out of Eames, causing a pleased smile to spread across the other man's face.

 

"Well, it's been a pleasure, darling. But needs must." He gestures to the exit and makes to step away. "You probably shouldn't stay out here by yourself."

 

"Are you my knight in shining armor? Are you going to protect me?" Arthur teases.

Eames feels a blush and looks down, grumbling about 'ungrateful little twinks.' When he looks up, Arthur has moved into his space so close that he can feel hot breath on his face. He opens his mouth, and shuts it promptly when hands gently shove his shoulders to back him up against the wall. He raises his hands in mock protest before Arthur closes the distance and kisses him hard on the mouth. Too stunned to react, he waits for his brain to catch up. Arthur makes a noise of protest and pulls away, his face coloring.

 

"I'm...sorry...I thought..." He runs his hands through his hair and gestures between them. He moves back while he's talking. "I guess I was wrong. Forget I did that. Please."

 

Eames finally gets with the program, and grabs at the retreating wrist, reeling Arthur back in.

 

"Hey, you just took me by surprise, mate. That's all."

 

He flips them around so Arthur's back is to the wall with his mouth gaping open in shock. Eames laughs and presses his full length against Arthur, they're about the same height, so it's easy enough to catch Arthur's mouth again. It's chaste and quiet at first, until he feels the sweep of Arthur's tongue against his lips. He opens up and lets him in, swiping easily back into the heat. They clash and it's all teeth, and spit, and tongue. Eames pulls back a little and buries his face in pale neck, licking at the pulse point. It causes Arthur to make a deliciously needy noise into the air, that goes straight to Eames' cock. He pulls back and moans at how wrecked his new companion looks. His hair is everywhere, his eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering. He's panting, and when he opened his eyes his pupils are blown wide. He hooks his fingers into Eames' belt loops and pulled him closer, rolling his hips up and attacking with his mouth again. Eames is suddenly dizzily hard, and he can feel the same from Arthur. The friction of the jeans against his own is just this side of painful. He slots a thigh between Arthur's legs and smiles through the kiss, at Arthur's frantic moans.

 

Just before he's about to come in his trousers like a bloody teenager the door slams open again. He isn't sure who moves first, but both of them jump away from each other, still panting, and looking flushed and guilty. Eames knows his break is long over, yet it still isn't Yusuf. For fuck's sake, it's another customer. 

 

What the bloody buggering hell is Yusuf doing up there, selling tickets to the back alley?

 

This one squints out into the darkness. "Arthur?" he calls, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the street lamp.

 

Arthur's eyes flick to Eames and start nervously tucking his hair back behind his ears.

 

"Yeah, Robert. I'm out here."

 

"What the hell, Arthur? I've been looking all over for you." Robert comes stomping down the stairs, and Eames raises an eyebrow at Arthur, who's refusing to look at him.

 

"Um...sorry. I just need some fresh air."

 

"Yeah, right fresh air. You smell like an ashtray, Arthur. What have I told you about that, it's disgusting." 

 

Robert stands ramrod straight, ignoring Eames. He's obviously very posh, Eames catalogs, like the once-upon-a-time-thief he is. A Cartier wrist watch, expensive hair cut, the outline of a wallet that probably cost more than its contents. He's feeling a little awkward but it's his alley damn it, and he's also curious. His lips feel swollen and his dick is still half hard, he wants to know why they've been interrupted. Eames busies himself with another cigarette, and quietly goes about his eavesdropping.

 

"Right. Sorry." Arthur slouches and shoves his hands into his pockets. The tips of his ears are red enough to see in the half light.

 

"You can't go running off every time we have words. I couldn't find you and here you are slumming it with...the janitor, or something." Robert gestures dismissively towards Eames, who thinks about being offended for a minute then remembers that he just almost made this asshole's boyfriend come from friction alone, and settles on a smirk instead.

 

"He's not the janitor. Jesus, Robert." Arthur whispers angrily, and turns away, back toward the door. "I'm sorry I walked off. Can we just please go back in? I'm sure Adriane is looking for us."

 

"Don't think we're done talking about this, Arthur." He reaches out and shoves Arthur a little bit, his eyes glinting angrily.

 

Eames shifts and stands up straight. "Oi." He lifts his chin at Robert, who just smiles back at him.

 

"Do you need something? Don't you have garbage to take out or something?"

 

"It's fine." Arthur is looking at Robert, but speaking to Eames. "Seriously. Please can we go back inside?"

 

Robert stares quietly at Eames, before slowly and deliberately turning his back on him, and slinging his arm around Arthur. "Okay, babe. Let's go before we get hepatitis or something." They amble slowly around the side of the building, back to the front entrance. Eames slumps back against the wall and watches them go.

 

He rubs his hands over his face and back through his hair. He isn't sure what just happened, he'd had one of, no probably the best snog of his life and now he's standing alone in the cold with blue balls. He takes a deep breath and straightens up from the wall. He starts towards the door, when it bangs open for the third time that night. This time it's Yusuf peeking his head out, a frown on his face.

 

"What the hell, mate? You've been gone forever. "

 

"I'm coming. I'm coming." He jogs up the stairs and back inside, his ears being assaulted by some particularly heavy dubstep. He can feel a headache starting to form, throbbing to the beat of the grinding music.

 

He ignores it, smiling and flirting, serving drinks like he's meant to be there.

 

***

 

Later, after last call and dealing with what's now a full-blown headache slowly morphing into a migraine, Eames is back in the alley hauling trash over the edge of the dumpster, another fag clenched between his teeth. Janitor indeed, he thinks grimly. His head gives a new throb of agony as he dismally remembers that he still has to do the money tonight, before he can go home and pass out. Maybe have a wank over the thought of a lithe body and dimpled smile in the shower before that.

 

As though his thoughts conjure him, he spots a familiar head of dark curls walking across the car park. Robert is walking ahead, dangling car keys to no doubt something small and expensive. He's also with a small woman with dark hair, and what looks like twenty scarves wrapped around her neck. _Ariadne_ , Eames mind supplies. 

 

She's much drunker then her companions, and stops in the middle of the asphalt to lean over with her hands on her knees. Arthur stops with her, rubbing her back with a fond smile. It looks like a false alarm, and the girl straightens with a grimace. Arthur, for no reason, glances behind him and picks out Eames in the dark. 

 

Eames smiles and waves a little, gloves still on his hands. Arthur smiles back, his dimples in full force, until Robert jerks his hand to hurry them along. Eames notices that Robert isn't actually holding his hand, but has a death grip on his wrist instead.

 

Arthur looks one more time, waving low and close to his hip, then turns back and hurries along; trying to keep up with his boyfriend's quick pace. Ariadne also looks at him curiously for a long moment, before following behind the two.

 

Eames sighs and peeled off his gloves. With one last drag, he flicks his cigarette back behind him and goes looking for Yusuf, who always has the right mystery concoction to help his head. The nice thing about your best friend being a chemistry major. He shakes his head and tries to forget about Arthur. He won't ever see him again, and if he does, he's staying away. He's obviously more trouble than he's worth.


	2. You're My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Ariadne asks too many questions and talks Arthur into doing something he doesn't want to in the name of friendship, serial killers and death by boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, I got me a beta. So fancy. So thanks to [HTH31](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HTH31/pseuds/HTH31) for taking my nattering and many grammatical errors and turning it into something other people can read. Any mistakes left are all my very own.

Arthur lay sprawled across the couch, tossing a ball into the air and catching it repeatedly. Ariadne sat with her back against the couch valiantly trying to decipher what looked like gibberish to Arthur, but what she insisted was math for one of her classes. She sighed, placed her pencil down, and watched as it rolled off the glass table top, sank and disappeared into the plush white carpet. She nodded her head as though that decided it. Can't find the pencil, can't do the class work. She turned a little so she could see Arthur who continued to stare at the ceiling and the red blur flipping up into the air and back down with a smack into his palm. 

"Hey." She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. "How's it going?" 

"Oh, you know, same old same old. And you?" He flashed a grin at her. 

"Good. I want to punch my calculus teacher in the throat, but other than that..." She shrugged. "How's Robert?" 

She said Robert's name the same way some people said "dog shit", like she just wanted to scrape it off the bottom of her shoe as fast as possible.

"He's fine." Arthur sighed. He knew how his best friend felt about his boyfriend. They'd had the same conversation many times, and he didn't really want to admit to her that things weren't fine after defending the man for the last year and a half. 

Ariadne just hummed and watched the ball's trajectory. After a minute she smirked. "Who was the guy on Saturday?" 

Arthur startled and winced as he missed the ball and it hit him in the stomach. "What guy?" 

"Oh, just the one you grinned at like an idiot. The one in the alley outside the bar?" 

"What are you even talking about, Ari?" 

"Arthur. If you're going to lie to me, the least you can do is look at me when you do it. " 

Arthur sat up and looked straight at her. "I have no idea what you are talking about. You are a a crazy person suffering from delusions."

Ariadne smacked him on the leg. "You are a crazy person and a _terrible_ liar by the way. Spill." 

"He was just some guy I met when I was out having a smoke. Not a big deal." 

"Uh...Arthur you know you're not supposed to smoke. Robert thinks it's 'disgusting'" 

"Oh, shut up." He half smiled at her poor sing-song imitation of Robert's voice. "Seriously though, he was nobody." 

"Whatever you say." She twisted some of the shag carpet threads around her fingers. "I met somebody." 

"What!? At the bar?" Arthur was excited for his friend, but mostly he was just relieved she was changing the subject. "You waited two days to tell me this!?" 

Ariadne smiled weakly and shrugged. "I just wanted to wait and see if it would pan out. Didn't want to get my hopes up if he never called." 

"And?" 

"Oh my god. He called and we talked for hours last night. He's is so funny and smart. He's a chemistry major, and he's hot…of course. He's got this accent. So good it gave me eargasms Arthur! His name's Yusuf. " 

Arthur grinned and let Adriane enumerate the many amazing qualities of this Yusuf, throwing in some listening noises here and there. In her excitement Ariadne's sentences seemed to morph together as one as she gestured wildly with her hands. She started to wind down and looked at him nervously. 

"He wants to go out." She ended the sentence on a high questioning note. 

"You're not sure?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at her as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "What do you want, Ari?" 

"I just...I was wondering if you could come with." She did her best impression of a winning grin. 

"You want me to come with you on a date. On a first date. That won't be awkward in the slightest." 

"No, we could just do a totally casual hang out thing. Come on Arthuuuurrr. I don't know him, and what if he's like…a serial killer?! I could die Arthur, and it would be your fault. I will haunt you." 

"Seriously?" Arthur watched her blank faced. "You're jumping straight to serial killer here? Ever the optimist, Ari." 

"Or! Even worse, what if he's super boring in person and I'm stuck there trying to make conversation?" 

"Boring is worse than serial killer death?" 

"Totally." She replied like Arthur was being stupid. "Anyway you can die of boredom. It's a fact. Or I can at least." 

Arthur tried not to smile at her pouting face and failed miserably. "When is this totally casual-not-a-date-but-still-a-date happening?" 

"Tomorrow night. Arthur you are the very best friend in the whole wide world. You know that, right?" 

"You know I haven't said yes, yet?. I want to run it by Robert first." He ignored Ariadne's eye roll. "But if he's down, I'd be happy to protect you from boredom and/or serial killers." 

"You know he's not your keeper or anything, don't you?. You _can_ make plans without his permission." 

"Of course I can. It's not about permission. It's just common courtesy for Christ's sake." He scowled at her, but she just smiled brightly back at him. 

"Well I think I'm going to get out of here before you try and kill me with your mind. I wouldn't want you to hurt something." She smirked.

"Do you not understand that I am doing you a favor here?" 

She just laughed and hugged him kissing him briefly on the cheek. He helped her shove all her books and papers into her backpack. 

Once the door shut behind her, he flopped back into his original sprawl onto the couch and allowed his thoughts to drift back to Eames. It seemed like that happened anytime he had a free moment recently. He tried not to, and berated himself for being so ridiculous. He didn't even know this guy, frankly, _he_ could be a serial killer, skulking around dark alleys. Looking all hot and drawing attention to his mouth with the smoking. 

No. Wait. 

He shook his head and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars behind his lids. He started to get hard just thinking about the handsome stranger. He attempted to picture Robert instead, but it was no use. He had Eames' taste in his mouth again and his scent ingrained in his memory. Smoke, whiskey,and a particularly fruity shampoo. He groaned as he bit his lip and slipped his hands into his pants. He slid his sweat pants down so he could see his cock, already red and aching. He slid his hands around it and squeezed a little. He gave up pretending that he was able to stop this and promised himself that this was the last time. He just needed to get Eames out of his system. He refused to admit to himself that he'd said that every time he'd jerked off since that night. He let himself buck up into his fist and moaned imagining it was a slightly bigger, less familiar hand. It only took a couple of strokes before he came with Eames' name on his lips. 

He floated boneless on a sea of post orgasmic bliss until his phone beeped. He reached for it with his clean hand, grimacing at the rapidly cooling mess on his stomach and shirt. It was a text from Robert saying that he was on his way. He felt a little guilty as he dragged himself to the shower, but couldn't manage to put much effort in it as he started the water. Since this was the last time, he had nothing to feel bad about. Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/). It's mostly just pictures of Tom and Joe and food I can't eat. So if that's your thing come follow.


	3. We Did It When We Were Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we explore gaslighting and how much of an asshole Robert is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [HTH31.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HTH31/pseuds/HTH31) She did all the edits on her phone while busy with family stuff. She is obviously the best. 
> 
> The title is a song from the band Gaslight Anthem, so really it's the band name that fits, but I thought that would be weird. And we wouldn't want that while we write fanfic, amIright?

If Arthur was honest with himself he would have to admit that Robert had always been kind of an asshole. The day they'd met he'd been sprawled out at a desk halfway up the lecture hall in one of the many buildings bearing his name. He'd been surrounded by admirers and his feet were sticking out into half the aisle. Arthur, who had been re-reading some of his color-coded study notes, hadn't been paying attention to where he walked and inevitably tripped over Robert's Ferragamos. He landed half in Robert's lap, his arms pinwheeled, and his books and notes slid down the steps with a thud. There was a beat of silence until Robert started laughing and everyone else joined in, as if on cue. Arthur scrambled to his feet, his face hot, and mumbled an apology.

"You know, if you wanted to meet me you could have just said hello. You didn't have to throw yourself all over me." Robert smirked up at a scowling Arthur.

"I wasn't...that's not..your stupid shoes were in the way. I know you own the building or whatever, but some of us have places to walk!" With that he stomped off, his dignified exit somewhat marred by having had to chase after a few stray pencils that had rolled under chairs, and the howls of laughter that trailed off behind him.

***

After class, Robert had sought Arthur out to apologize and charm him with his brilliant white teeth. He offered to take Arthur out to prove his remorse. Arthur didn't know very many people on campus, and he wasn't all that social at the best of times. Something about his sarcastic attitude and scowly face apparently turned people off. He was fine with that usually, but he hadn't realized how lonely he was until Robert had come into his life. And really, Robert was hot. He had an unreal beauty with high cheekbones and intense pale blue eyes. Arthur wasn't immune to his charms, so he said yes.

***

Arthur had grown up in the system, he was a foster kid who never got adopted. Just one family after another until he turned eighteen. He hadn't had a lot of attention or new things for himself, so the whirlwind of Robert got to his head a little bit. They ate at all the best restaurants, and Robert bought him new clothes that fit properly and cost more than his rent. Speaking of rent, Robert had insisted on moving Arthur into a better apartment because he didn't want to "be seen slumming it" at Arthur's current sad little hole in the wall.

And Robert _really_ could be an asshole. He liked to use Arthur as the butt of his jokes when they were out with his friends; he would make asides about how Arthur would be more attractive if he grew his hair out, worked out, etc etc. He didn't like Arthur to go out alone without him and would pout for hours if Arthur didn't answer the phone within three rings. Arthur chalked it up to Robert being raised as a rich kid who'd always got whatever he wanted. He forgave him even though every comment made him twinge,second guess himself, and file away for later when he was alone.

It had gotten worse lately; all of Robert's asides were turning into full on, hateful rants. Last week Arthur had burned dinner, and Robert had called him an idiot who couldn't do anything right. Arthur occasionally thought about leaving Robert, but then he remembered that he had no job and only one friend whom he didn't want to impose upon. As though he could read Arthur's mind, when he started to gather up the courage to leave, Robert would do a 180 and start doting on him again like he was running for boyfriend of the year. During those times, Arthur would let himself hope that it would always be like this. 

***

When Robert got to Arthur's, he had just finished up his shower, and stood wrapped in only a towel, tilting his chin toward the mirror whilst he shaved.

"I'm in here!" He called out into the hallway.

"Hey baby." Robert slid in behind him and wrapped his arms around Arthur's bare waist. "You smell good."

Arthur smiled at him in the mirror and turned his face side to side to check for any missed spots. He leaned forward again to catch below his jaw. His ass was pressed against Robert's crotch and he could feel that he was already half hard.

Robert hummed and pressed forward a little. "I brought you dinner. It's your favorite from that terrible fake curry place."

"I know, it's not real curry. Someday you'll take me to India and I can have the real thing." Arthur's laugh turned into a moan when Robert reached around to cup his cock through the towel.

"Like that?" Robert murmured into his neck and rolled his hips up against his ass.

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me finish..." He gestured to the mirror.

"Okay." Robert stepped back with a grin his hands in the air, palms out. "Wouldn't want you to cut yourself...your face is too pretty."

Before he left, he smacked Arthur on his butt with a laugh.

Arthur hurried up and wiped all of the shaving cream off his face. He padded into the bedroom to find Robert half undressed, wearing only his briefs. He took two strides, met Arthur in the doorway, and slipped his fingers into the towel, loosening it enough to drop to the carpet.

He leaned down and kissed Arthur, sliding his hands into the dark curls and tugging. He backed Arthur up slowly, and didn't break the kiss until his knees hit the bed and he flopped back with a surprised gasp. Robert quickly removed his underwear and moved up between Arthur's knees, his cock bobbing in the air, the tip glistening with pre come. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Arthur's harder this time, their hands tangled together above Arthur's head. Arthur arched up into him, seeking friction against Robert's stomach, uttering soft moans.

Robert broke the kiss to reach into the bed side table for lube and a condom. He made quick work of getting his fingers slicked and into Arthur. Robert didn't waste any time; he started with two and scissored them open, making Arthur squirm and clutch the bed sheets. Before Arthur was completely ready Robert pulled his fingers out, ripped the wrapper open with his teeth, and slid the condom on in one smooth motion. He slicked himself up, squirted more onto his fingers, and rubbed it back to Arthur's hole.

The first press of Robert's cock made Arthur hiss a little, not fully open yet. Robert adjusted his knees and pulled Arthur's legs up over his shoulders, as he pushed slowly in. His mouth hung open and his eyes were closed. "You are so tight baby. So beautiful, I love you just like this."

Arthur moaned when Robert bottomed out and paused while he waited for Arthur to adjust. When Arthur nodded Robert began to move in and out at a frantic pace, as he slammed back in over and over. Arthur writhed on the cock, completely full and just the wrong side of uncomfortable. He could tell when Robert began to get close because his rhythm started to stutter. Arthur reached for his own cock, which had smeared pre come all over his stomach, and stroked it a few times. He felt his orgasm curling at the base of his spine, and he shut his eyes only for his mind to immediately supply him with the image of Eames. Eames...pounding into him with a stream of dirty words leaving his mouth in that rough accent. With a loud cry, Arthur came all over his stomach and up his chest. He opened his eyes, disoriented to see Robert who came right after him.

Robert rolled over and lay next to him as he panted for breath. It was always Arthur who had to get the washcloth and clean them up, so he rolled out of bed, and disappeared into the bathroom. After they were both free of the sticky mess, Robert hauled himself to his feet and began to get dressed.

"Are you leaving?" Arthur sat, still naked, in the middle of the bed and watched as Robert buttoned up his dress shirt.

"Yeah." He sighed. "My father needs me to go to one of those dinners... be charming and dutiful."

"Oh." Arthur looked down. "Maybe you could take me some time? _I_ can be charming."

Robert laughed which stung a little. "Baby, you can't be charming enough for my Father. He would die right there if I brought my faggot boyfriend. On second thought, maybe I _should_ take you."

"That's not funny." Arthur scowled.

"Oh lighten up. Why do you even bother to ask? You know I always take Cecilia to these things. "

"Oh right. Cecilia."

Cecilia was Robert's beard for family functions. Arthur suspected that there was more to it than that though when Robert had come over smelling like a woman's perfume more than once. Arthur realized, with surprise, that now he didn't have a lot of room to be mad about it. Technically he had 'cheated' a couple of days ago.

Robert ignored the silence and kissed Arthur on the head. "Okay, I'll call you later baby. The food is in the fridge."

Arthur just nodded and stayed where he was. After he heard the door shut he got up, pulling on some pajama pants, and went to heat up his take out. He realized after an hour of watching Real Housewives of New Jersey that he hadn't asked Robert about going out the next night. _Fuck him_ , he decided. He can hang out with Cecilia and his Father instead of his _faggot boyfriend._

He texted Ariadne before going to bed. "I'm in." He smiled when he received about twenty smiley faces in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr, where mostly I post pictures of Tom and Joe and food. But here it is if you are so inclined. [Sweetbutterbliss](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/)


	4. Consumed With What's To Transpire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames was planning on getting laid tonight, he was going to get over Arthur the best way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, it makes me feel all fuzzy inside. 
> 
> Title is from the song "Sex Is On Fire" by Kings of Leon. 
> 
> As always beta'd by the ever patient hand holder HTH31 . She did it on her tiny phone just for me.

Eames sat and watched a particularly attractive brunette from across the bar as he slouched and spread his knees, knowing he had the other man's attention. He licked his lips and smirked when the man's eyebrows raised. He knew he had it in the bag when the man raised his drink and smiled. 

_No dimples._ Eames' treasonous thoughts made him scowl. The poor man looked confused and turned back to his friends. _Wow, Eames, get it together. You'll never get laid at this rate._ He was determined to get Arthur out of his head tonight, the amount of wanking he'd done over one bloody kiss was starting to get pathetic. He was a firm believer that the best way to get over someone was to fuck someone else. He was sure that was how the saying went. 

He shook it off and scanned the bar again. This time he looked for someone blonde, curvy, and female. He was an equal opportunities lover and he wanted the exact opposite of bloody Arthur. He'd just started making eyes at a buxom, giggly target when he was rudely interrupted by the voice of his best friend.

"Here's your drink, Eames. Look who I found at the bar?" Yusuf grinned so hard at the floor that it could only be his mysterious date. He'd insisted Eames accompany them just in case it was awkward. Eames had rolled his eyes and finagled free drinks out of the deal, so he figured why not. Also, once he could give the love birds the slip he could start on "Operation Forget That Stupid Bloody Twink With the Brilliant Mouth." 

He took a sip of the amber liquid as he looked up to assess the woman making Yusuf act like a love struck teen. He saw a tiny, familiar looking girl wearing a multitude of scarves, and none other than Arthur trailing behind her. Of course. He sputtered around his drink and stood up abruptly.

"Arthur." It wasn't even a question really, more of a statement of fact, as though he had been expecting him all along. And maybe he had been if his stupid grin and the lightness in his chest meant anything.

"This is Ariadne. And this is her friend Arthur, but you two already know each other?" Yusuf's brow wrinkled in confusion. Ariadne slid into the booth and tugged Yusuf in behind her. Eames gestured to Arthur, who turned red from the tips of his sticky out ears all the way down his neck. It was hands down the most adorable thing Eames had ever seen. When he gestured to the inside of the booth with a small bow, Arthur scowled at him and slid in as far to the edge as he could. Eames didn't let that stand, he sat taking up as much space as he could, one thigh pressed against Arthur's, who continued to scowl down at the table.

"You're the guy!" Ariadne crowed and pointed at Eames.

"The guy? Oh, do tell. Have you been talking about me dear Arthur?" He leaned over the table, eyes bright.

He didn't know people could turn that shade of red, it made him want to reach out and brush a hand across Arthur's bowed head to soothe him. He managed to restrain himself by focusing on Ariadne.

"Not really. He said you were just someone he met while he was smoking." She turned her narrowed eyes on Arthur. "Why, is there more?"

Yusuf still looked lost and maybe a little forlorn that Ariadne was so focused on anything other than him.

"No. Nothing more." He resolutely didn't look at Arthur. "Actually, my dear, I could use your help. Arthur has left me in a maze of longing and I need your ball of yarn to find my way out." 

"Oh for Christ's sake, that is the worst pickup line I've ever heard." Arthur burst out, clearly exasperated.

"Shhhh, darling." Eames patted him on the arm. "So tell me all of Arthur's dark secrets, pretty please?"

Ariadne laughed. "Well, you get points for recognizing my name. People always ask if I meant Andrea, 'no thanks, I do know my own name, asshole.' "

" _I_ knew what your name meant." Yusuf attempted to steer her attention back to himself.

"Of course you did." She beamed at him and rubbed his arm. Eames just barely suppressed a laugh at Yusuf's dazed, mollified expression.

His friend had it bad, poor sod. He turned to Arthur, who was watching the two of them, dimples on full display, and Eames felt a little dazed himself. _Well shit._ he thought.

"What?" Arthur demanded, when he caught Eames staring.

"Just admiring the company, pet. How's your charming boyfriend, Robert, was it?" He didn't know what possessed him to say it, maybe a fumbling attempt at self preservation. He regretted it immediately.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. I'm going to get drinks." He shoved at Eames until he was free to get out of the booth. Eames shamelessly made sure that Arthur had to squeeze past him with another shove.

He sat back down and watched Arthur leave. It was a quite the view... thank heavens for fitted trousers. He turned back to find Ariadne glaring at him again.

"You." She pointed, aggressively. "He does not deserve another asshole messing with him."

"I assure you, I'm not trying to mess with him. I barely even know him." Eames defended himself.

"Right, well. I'll be watching you. I may look tiny but I will take out your kneecaps, easy. "

"You are frankly terrifying and I vow to never cross you."

With one last parting glare she turned to Yusuf, who looked grateful again. Eames felt a little out of his depth, it sounded like they were entering a conversation they'd had before, so he leaned back in his booth and waited for Arthur to return.

He'd only know the man for less than a week, he couldn't fathom the way he was drawn to this virtual stranger. He'd tried to rationalize it, he had to admit that Arthur was extremely hot, a fantastic kisser, and there was something about his blatant hostility that made him a little dizzy with want. He didn't know if they had anything in common, or if Arthur was funny, or even a psychopath. It had to be the kissing and all the hotness, right? It couldn't be anything else. Besides, Arthur had a boyfriend, so it wasn't as though anything was going to happen. The other night had been some sort of anomaly. That was settled, and he felt better, he had this under control. Just your typical, run of the mill lust. No big deal.

***

A few hours later he had to admit that he did not have this under control. Not at all. Arthur was drunk enough that he kept swaying into Eames' side and stayed there, warm and heavy. His dimples were on constant display, and his curls had sprung free of the style he'd coaxed them into, and hung down over his eyes. The way he sighed, ducked his head, and tucked the curl back behind his ear did strange things to Eames' chest. He put a hand on the back of Arthur's neck, and let his thumb brush back and forth over his nape. He couldn't help but grin crookedly when Arthur turned the full force of his smile and crinkly eyes on Eames.

"S'feels good." He slurred.

"Oh darling, you are so pissed." Eames laughed.

"What? I'm not mad. I don't think I could ever be mad at you." His breathe ghosted hot on Eames' face.

Eames blinked. "No. You're not mad, love. But I might be."

Arthur just sighed and rested his head on Eames' broad shoulder, whilst Eames tried to remind himself again that this wasn't a big deal, Arthur had a boyfriend, and it was just a crush.

"So, how do you two know each other?" Ariadne cut through Eames reverie, gesturing between him and Yusuf.

"We met in Mombasa. I owned a shop there, and one day I'm minding my own law abiding business, when this tosser comes barging in and yelling about needing a place to hide."

"Oi! That's not the truth!" Eames exclaimed, sheepishly.

"Oh? What part isn't true then?" Yusuf challenged.

"Well. I wouldn't say that I yelled." He sniffed offended.

"Right, well, he barged in and said, in a totally normal and polite tone of voice, that he needed somewhere to hide."

"That's better. Now continue." Eames waved Yusuf on.

"I will if you would stop bloody interrupting me. So, being the kind and helpful gentlemen I am, I hid him in the back and lied through my teeth when his pursuers came looking for him. Basically, I saved his life."

"Why were they chasing you?" Arthur asked, as he sat up again.

"Um...well." He paused, embarrassed.

"He was a pick pocket. And he picked the wrong pocket that day."

"In my defense, I'm usually very good at it, and I've still never actually been caught. Close calls not withstanding."

"So you're a thief?" Ariadne asked, smiling.

" _Was_ , my dear. I _was_ a thief."

"Semantics." Yusuf said with a laugh. 

"Well, I did move up to fencing stolen goods, and even some very convincing forgery. Never say I don't excel at my chosen profession." He ground his cigarette into the ashtray. 

"So, you're a gentleman thief." 

"Must I remind you again, my darling Ariadne? _Was_. I am perfectly respectable now." 

Yusuf snorted into his drink, which Eames chose to ignore... as he was the bigger man here. Arthur put his head back on Eames' shoulder and one arm around his waist. Eames swallowed thickly and rested his arm gingerly around behind Arthur. Ariadne beamed at him and he relaxed into it, taking a moment to bury his nose in Arthur's hair. 

"So how did you end up running a club in the good ol' US of A?" Ariadne asked. 

__"Well I had a barmy uncle who moved here years ago and was going to make his fortune. He died and left me the club in his will. I thought 'why not, I could use a change.' See if I could make it in the real world, you know? America's the land of opportunity and all that bollocks, innit?"_ _

__"And he talked me into being his business partner, because he's a lonely, sad man, who can't go anywhere without me." Yusuf added cheerfully._ _

__"Well, I'm glad you did. It's a great place."_ _

__"I do enjoy it." Eames admitted with a shrug._ _

__Arthur sat up suddenly and leaned over the table earnestly. He reached over and poked Yusuf in the chest. "I am really glad that you're not a serial killer. Or boring."_ _

__"Um. Well, thank you Arthur." Yusuf frowned in confusion as Ariadne and Eames roared with laughter. Arthur nodded as though that settled it. He started pushing ineffectually at Eames._ _

__"Out...Eames, I have to pee. Out."_ _

__Eames took pity on him and slid out of the way. He watched Arthur wobble his way across the bar._ _

__"I better go and make sure he doesn't fall over on the way there."_ _

__"Right, Eames. No ulterior motives I'm sure." Yusuf smirked. Eames didn't reply, he just aimed a two fingered salute in Yusuf's direction._ _

__He found Arthur a minute later, leaning against the wall outside the bathrooms._ _

__"Eames! You found me." He seemed genuinely thrilled at the notion. "I just needed to rest for a minute. I hate looking at myself in the mirror when I'm drunk. Don't you?"_ _

__Oh, I always like looking at myself in the mirror. I am pretty hot, after all." Eames preened with a grin._ _

__"Yes, you really are." Arthur laughed and pressed himself against Eames._ _

__"We should...um...go back."_ _

__"Yeah, we should." Arthur didn't move. He just continued to stare into Eames' eyes. He moved closer and pressed his mouth against Eames'. Just a dry press of lips, chaste and quick. He wrapped his arms around Eames' neck, and tangled his fingers in the short hairs there. Arthur kissed him again, this time a little longer, and a little deeper._ _

__"Arthur." Eames groaned. "You're going to be the death of me." He felt all the rationality he'd gathered around himself earlier shedding like a second skin, and he pushed Arthur back into the wall behind them. He attacked Arthur's mouth, licking it open and pressing into him. He tasted like cranberries and vodka, and something sweet that was all Arthur. He rolled his hips up against Arthur's, eliciting a strangled moan. Arthur worked his hands in between their bodies and gripped Eames' erection through his jeans. Without breaking the kiss, Eames tilted his hips back to allow Arthur's hand better access. He huffed when he felt Arthur's deft fingers flick open his button and slide the zipper down. Eames dropped his head onto Arthur's shoulder when Arthur ran a thumb over the head of his cock which poked out of his briefs. Arthur ran his knuckles up and down the rest of the length through Eames' pants. His entire focus was this moment, Arthur's hands on him, panting into each other's mouth, licking at Arthur's dimples and making him laugh. Or it was, until the bathroom door banged open next to them, making them jump apart._ _

__The man who walked out glared at them as he walked by Eames who sheepishly tucked everything back in and zipped it all back up. Reality had hit him and he felt deflated, and maybe even a little shaky._ _

__"This is a bad idea, Arthur."_ _

__He almost took it back as he saw Arthur's smile disappear and his face begin to shut down. Even in his drunken state he was able to put on a passable poker face._ _

__"What is, Eames?" He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side._ _

__"This...you know...this." He waved his arms at Arthur, then vaguely at the bar behind them._ _

__"Do you mean sex in public?" Arthur asked._ _

__"Yes." He winced as hope shone in Arthur's brown eyes. "But not just that."_ _

__"Oh?" Arthur was doing a fabulous impression of someone who hadn't just had his hands down Eames' pants. It was as though Eames was wasting Arthur's time, like couldn't be bothered with this trivial discussion._ _

__"Well. You're in a relationship, aren't you?" Eames stepped back, shoving his fists into his pockets._ _

__"Right. My relationship. Well, thank you for letting me know where we stand. Now if you'll excuse me." Eames couldn't find any of the soft, smiling Arthur from only moments before. This was a new Arthur, he was all sharp edges and Eames stepped out of his way, absurdly worried that he might get cut if he were to rub against him again._ _

__He watched Arthur walk away, his back straight and his chin high. He didn't look back once. Eames sighed and ignored the constricting feeling in his chest. He'd had too much to drink and he just wanted to go home. He wanted to stretch out in his bed and not dream about Arthur. He slumped his shoulders as he admitted to himself that he probably wouldn't get his wish._ _

__***  
Eames had made a few laps of the bar and couldn't find Yusuf or Ariadne anywhere. He sent a few angry messages to Yusuf with no reply, so He decided to go around once more and if he didn't find them he was going home. They could go fuck themselves. Or each other, as the case may be._ _

__He approached the wide, shiny bar where could see, not Yusuf or Ariadne, but Arthur, perched on a stool. He leaned back against the bar on his elbows, and grinned as some strange blond man invaded his personal space. The man had one hand braced against the bar and the other, in Eames' opinion, much too high on Arthur's inseam._ _

__Eames told himself that it was none of his business. Arthur belonged to someone else. But logic was quickly being drowned out by a hot rush of jealousy. Before he knew it, he'd crossed the floor and was next to Arthur, his hands clenched in loose fists. He slipped his arms around Arthur's back, ignoring his look of surprise. He used his considerable bulk to nudge the other man out of the way, and bury his nose in the space behind Arthur's ear, and bite down gently. He heard Arthur gasp and he smiled up at the blond stranger with all of his teeth._ _

__He looked down at the man's hands on Arthur's leg and flashed a predatory smile at him._ _

__"Problem, mate?"_ _

__The man backed up. "No. S'cool. " He whirled around and walked away._ _

__Eames tightened his grip around Arthur's waist, trying to calm himself down and not go after the man._ _

__"What the fuck, Eames?!" Arthur hissed. He didn't move out of the embrace though. "You can't tell me you don't want me, then come over here and fucking cockblock me!"_ _

__"Don't want you?!" Eames stepped back a little. Are you fucking kidding me? I want you. I've wanted you everyday since I met you. I want you so bad it...it's driving me crazy, Arthur. I can't make decisions around you. Or at least not the right ones."_ _

__"Eames...then why did you say it was a bad idea?" Arthur fisted his hand in Eames shirt, pulling him closer._ _

__"Because it is a bad idea, darling. I'm going to fall for you and it's going to end badly. But please don't think that I don't want you." He took Arthur's head in his hands. "I want you however I can have you. I don't want to leave and go home by myself again. I want to take you with me, and spread you out across my bed. I want to make you beg for my cock, and make you come, and then come again. I want to fuck you into the mattress, and then suck your cock until you come a third time down my throat. Oh darling, how I want."_ _

__Arthur had gone boneless, his eyes fluttered shut and his breath came in gasps. "Do it. Please, Eames. Take me home."_ _

__Any of Eames' resolve crumbled right there and he crushed Arthur into a bruising kiss and led him to his car, a small pressure on the small of Arthur's lower back, unable to completely relinquish any contact until he absolutely had to."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mah [tumblr](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/) for youuuuu. I promise some A/E smut very soon.


	5. I Got A Bad Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames still thinks this is a bad idea, but he's given up trying to resist. He was never very good at doing what he is supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from Bruce Springsteen's I'm on Fire, because that shit is hot. Like burning. (Get it, because he is on fire. Oh man, I am funny!) 
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> Thanks as always to HTH31 for the beta and hand holding. I always know at least one person will read what I write.

Arthur doesn't say much on the drive to Eames' flat, he flashes him a tentative smile now and then, tangling their hands together in his lap. Eames squeezes Arthur's hand and continues the drive one handed. He's surprised at how comfortable they are in the quiet. No awkward half started sentences or nervous laughs, just companionable silence. 

 

At his door, Arthur waits patiently arms crossed as Eames fumbles with the keys. Once inside Eames crosses the open floor, switching on lamps as he goes. He stands with his hands in his pockets trying to see his home from Arthur's point of view. It's a wide studio with a galley kitchen tucked into the corner, and a small space for a couch, armchair, and television. One entire wall is made up of bookshelves, piled haphazardly with books and knick-knacks. Most of the room is taken up by drop cloths and easels, canvases line the walls in varying sizes, some finished and some he may or may not finish. He winces a little at the crusty dishes in the sink and laundry piled on top of the dining table, but Arthur doesn't seem interested in anything but the paintings. He makes a beeline to the largest, it's a recent one with muted greys and blues and curving dark lines. He'd been thinking of the way Arthur's curls had looked at the nape of his neck when he'd done that one just yesterday. He decided to keep that information to himself though. 

 

Arthur crouches in front of it, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. He tilts his head and reaches out without touching it, and follows following the bold lines with his fingers. He looks back at Eames and grins. 

 

"So you're an artist-thief then?" He teases. 

 

Eames makes a big show of sighing and rolling his eyes, but he can't stop the smile. "Was a thief, darling. I do get tired of repeating myself." 

 

"I don't know…I think you might still be one." 

 

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" 

 

"Well, you stole me away and brought me here." 

 

Eames feels a hitch in his breathing despite Arthur's joking tone. Luckily, Arthur has turned to examine the rest of the paintings and can't see Eames' expression. 

 

"These are really great, Eames. You have so much talent." He laughs a little as he comes across one of the forgeries. "Degas?" He makes a guess. 

 

Eames nods, feeling his face heat up. He clears his throat and tries to recover. "Darling." He lets his voice deepen to a growly rasp. "As I am a self-centered artist, normally I'd love nothing more than to talk about me and my work. But I'd rather hoped for more nudity in this situation." He leers at Arthur. 

 

"So you want to talk about your art while we're naked? Kinky, Eames." He laughs with his hands on his hips. 

 

"Oh you are hilarious, pet." He closes the distance with two strides and pulls Arthur flush against him. He touches Arthur's lower lip with his thumb and moves in to kiss him. He pushes his tongue in, tasting the residual alcohol in Arthur's mouth. Arthur pushes back into Eames' mouth, sighing and shutting his eyes. After a moment Eames' pulls back, pleased at the sound of protest Arthur makes before opening his eyes again. 

 

"Well then, let me give you the grand tour." He pushes Arthur backwards towards the hallway, ignoring his confused scowl. He pauses a few times to briefly kiss Arthur's mouth, his neck, his gorgeous collarbone; and his scowl eventually melting away. They reach the bedroom and Eames takes a moment to thank heaven that he made the bed this morning. 

 

"This is the bedroom. And that..." He gestures vaguely behind him. "Is the rest of the flat." 

Arthur laughs and drops down onto the bed, lying back and pulling Eames down with him. "Best tour ever." 

 

Eames crawls up the length of Arthur's body, stopping when his knees bracket Arthur's narrow hips, and starts working on getting him out of his shirt. It takes him longer than he would like, slipping the tiny buttons out of their holes he grumbles about 'bloody posh twinks' and 'who wears an oxford to a bar, honestly.' Arthur doesn't help, only watches him with a smile. When he's done, Eames flings the shirt onto the floor and runs his hands up and down Arthur's ribcage. He leans down and bites at one of Arthur's nipples, rolling it a bit in his teeth, causing Arthur to gasp and arch up against him. Eames sits up and reaches behind him, pulling his shirt over his head in one quick motion. Arthur sits up on one elbow, his eyes dark and his pupils wide, rubbing his hands over Eames' chest and tracing the tattoos across his shoulders. He reaches down and tugs at Eames' waistband. 

 

"Off." He demands. 

 

"Oi. Bossy bottom." Eames grins and, standing up quickly. While he toes his shoes off, Arthur gets to work as well, hastily removing his own shoes, pants, and trousers in one go. Eames stops with his hand on his belt and admires the view. Arthur half smiles, puts one hand behind his head and spreads his legs a little. He raises an eyebrow and starts lazily tugging on his already hard cock. Eames is frozen, eyes wide and transfixed. He swallows hard and is dimly aware of Arthur laughing at him as he frantically tries to divest himself of his trousers and pants. He stumbles on the last leg and lands back on top of Arthur in a happy accident. 

 

He doesn't know if he's ever been this hard in his life as he braces himself over Arthur and leans down to kiss him, their erections rubbing together as Arthur ruts against him, moaning noisily. Eames slides down, kissing along Arthur's sternum, his navel and licking at his hip. He spreads Arthur's legs wider and licks at the crease between his pelvis and his thigh. Arthur is panting and making tiny moans, his hips thrusting up unconsciously. Eames goes down further and sucks one of Arthur's balls in his mouth, rolling it around gently, his nose buried in what little pubic hair Arthur has kept. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and lets it drop with a wet plop. He moves up a little, licking the underside of Arthur's cock and, without warning, takes it all down in one smooth motion. Arthur lets out a surprised moan and curls his hands into Eames' hair. Eames is a champion cocksucker, and pulls out all the stops. He alternates between fast, dirty deep throating and slow, soft pulls with his mouth, lavishing the head with attention from his tongue as he pulls off. Arthur hands are tight in his hair as he tugs sharply. 

 

"Eames. I'm gonna...okay...do that...oh god...gonna..." 

 

Eames continues, not wanting to stop, and feels Arthur tense underneath him and then come down his throat with a long moan, his hips stuttering into the back of Eames' soft throat. Eames pulls off and sits back on his heels. Arthur is wrecked, his face is flushed, his curls a riotous halo and his eyes heavy and lidded. He gives Eames a languorous smile and watches him through his lashes. He reaches up and swipes a thumb at the corner of Eames' mouth. It comes back covered in his own come, which he sucks into his mouth with a pleased expression. Eames groans and leans down to kiss him until he doesn't taste like come anymore, but just tastes like Arthur, grinding his erection against Arthur's hips mindlessly. Sitting up and reaching for the bedside table, he has to stop when Arthur's hands reach for him and start stroking his cock, pulling the foreskin down curiously. Eames groans and fucks up into Arthur's fist still trying to fumble condoms and lube out of the drawer. He finally gets them and dumps them on the bed next to Arthur's head, still pushing up into Arthur's hands. 

 

"I've never been with...an uncircumcised guy before. " He breathes out, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he finds a rhythm pushing and pulling the foreskin back. 

 

"You...are...doing...just...fine." Eames pants and thrusts up two or three more times before gently disengaging himself from Arthur, who frowns in disappointment. 

 

"It's alright, love. You can explore it all you want later. Right now though, I have plans." 

 

"Oh?" Arthur is already half hard again, his cock resting heavily against his leg. 

 

"Oh yes, such plans." He grabs up the lube and liberally slicks his fingers, watching as Arthur's eyes go dark again and his mouth falls open a little. Eames kneels between Arthur's legs and pets underneath his balls with one wet finger. He pushes gently in, just the tip at first, then all the way to the knuckle. He adds a second without waiting, earning a gasp from Arthur. He stops moving his fingers to check if it's okay and Arthur growls at him pushing himself down onto the Eames' fingers. Eames shrugs then and uses the pads of his fingers to find the bundle of nerves hidden inside Arthur. He strokes around it and Arthur slams his head back into the pillow, breathing heavily, his cock is fully hard again and leaking precome onto his stomach. Eames had meant to take his time and go gentle but he's been thinking about this for days and he's so hard it aches. So he quickly scissors his fingers a few times and pulls them out. Arthur mewls at him, making him work quickly. He opens the packet with his teeth and slides the condom on, squeezing more lube out onto his cock, he rubs it in , listening to the obscene squelching sound it makes. He lines his cock up with Arthur's hole and pushes in slowly, tensing with the effort it takes not to just pound in all at once. He starts easing himself in slowly, Arthur is so tight and warm that he is worried he might come before he even bottoms out. Again, Arthur growls in frustration and hooks his legs around Eames' waist. He uses it as leverage to flip them over and while Eames' is still blinking up in surprise on his back, Arthur realigns and sinks down all at once until his ass is flush with Eames' balls. _Well if that's what how he wants it._ Eames grips Arthur's hips maybe a little too tight and braces his feet into the mattress. He fucks up into Arthur using his hips to lift him up a little, then slams his cock home again and again. Arthur braces his hands on Eames' chest, unable to keep up, and just lets Eames take control. His mouth is open and his eyes are shut tight and Eames thinks it's the best thing he's ever seen, as Arthur rolls his hips down, grinding on Eames' cock. 

 

"Yes, shit. Right there. Fuck me, Eames. Eames, Eames." He moans with each of Eames' thrusts. At the sound of his own name coming out in that deep, husky tone Eames feels his orgasm rolling up through his body. He grits his teeth as he pushes mindlessly in over and over again, until at last after one last push he stills and comes with a loud groan, still pumping shallowly into Arthur. He blinks after his haze clears and sees Arthur smiling down at him, both of their chests covered in come and sweat. 

 

"See I told you I would make you come more than once." He grins up at Arthur, and moves him gently off of his lap and onto his back on the bed. 

 

"I'm pretty sure you promised three times." Arthur mumbles with his eyes closed. 

 

"Well, aren't we greedy." Eames scoffs and presses a quick kiss to Arthur's mouth. Arthur's head follows as he pulls away, seeking more, so Eames lies on his side and kisses him longer. It's got no urgency, it's slow, soft and familiar. He breaks the kiss reluctantly and rolls out of bed. He comes back washed clean, condom disposed of, and begins to wipe Arthur down as well. 

 

"I could have done that." Arthur watches him with bright eyes. 

 

"Shh. I can do this for you." He finishes, tossing the rag into the hamper and gathering up the bed clothes that have tumbled to the floor. He prods Arthur, who is already half asleep, until his head is on a pillow and then climbs into bed. He tucks himself around Arthur, his arm wrapped around his waist, and buries his face into the sweat dampened curls. Arthur heaves out a contented sigh and almost immediately drops off. Eames stays awake a little longer thinking about what a monumentally bad idea this probably was before he is lulled to sleep by Arthur's soft breathing. 

 

*** 

 

He wakes up to Arthur rummaging around the room with just his pants on. He blinks at the clock and sees that it's 5am, which means that they'd probably only slept for about three hours. All he wants is to pull Arthur back in and doze longer, maybe have some morning wake up sex. But later, after more sleep. 

 

"Hey." He rasps out. 

 

"I didn't mean to wake you up." His expression is guilty, maybe a little trapped. 

 

"S'ok. " He sits up, the sheets pooling around his hips. His heart sinks as Arthur buttons up his shirt and sits down to slip on his shoes. "You're leaving." 

 

"Yeah, I have to. Robert will wonder where I am." Arthur speaks down to his shoes, refusing to look at Eames. 

 

"Right. Well at least let me drive you home." He starts to get out of the bed, but Arthur stops him with a hand on his wrist. 

 

"No. I can't...well...I can't drive up with you." He pulls away and starts twisting his hands in his lap. "I texted Ari, she should be here any minute." 

 

As if on cue, Arthur's phone chimes. He slides his thumb over the screen and sighs. 

 

"That's her then?" Eames asks, making his voice hard, determined not to let his disappointment show. 

 

"Yeah. Look...Eames...I..." 

 

Eames holds his hand up to stop him. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, darling. One night stand and all that." He knows his tone is nasty, but he can't help himself. His chest hurts and he wants Arthur to hurt too. He only regrets it a tiny bit when Arthur's face crumples a little. 

 

"Okay. Well I'll show myself out. " 

 

"Cheers." He doesn't look up but he can feel Arthur pause in the doorway and just about hears the whispered _'Sorry'_. He waits until he can hear the front door shut before he curls back up and tries to go back to sleep. He stares at the wall for a long time before exhaustion takes him. 

 

*** 

 

That day, he feels very productive. He washes the sheets and his clothes to get rid of the lingering scent of Arthur. He opens the windows too and airs everything out. He makes about twenty cups of tea, forgetting them all until they are too cold to drink. He paints over the Arthur canvas, erasing the curls and colors with black strokes. He calls Yusuf and attempts to be cheerful about the fact that he has a second date with Ariadne. He doesn't mention Arthur and Yusuf doesn't bring it up. He calls his mum and lets her fuss about how he's so far away, and how he should forget that silly business and just come home. That night after clearing out his TIVO he makes the official decision to wash his hands of Arthur. He's fucked this ridiculous crush out of his system, surely. He wants nothing more to do with him. That was that. 

 

*** 

 

His resolve lasts for three days and two nights, until Arthur shows up on his doorstep, soggy with the unexpected downpour. His hair wet and curling at his collar, and grinning at him with his damn dimples. Eames sighs and pulls him in, shutting the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments and bookmarks. It makes my day everyday. Come follow me on [ tumblr ](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/) where I ~~obsess over~~ post pictures of Tom and Joe in a completely not crazy way. And food. I love food.


	6. You Are The Piece of Me I Wish I Didn't Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames can almost pretend like he doesn't exist. Like Arthur is his, that they are in an actual relationship, instead of seeing each other on borrowed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd, oh so much red ink, by Heather who is now on tumblr because she is all grown up. I say beta but basically she helps write the damn thing. 
> 
> Title is from [ Clarity by Zedd, ft. Foxes](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxxstCcJlsc) which I sing at high pitched volumes while driving all the time. Who's down for a road trip!? Eh? Eh?

After that first morning Arthur doesn't mention Robert again if he can help it. Eames can almost pretend like he doesn't exist. Like Arthur is his, that they are in an actual relationship, instead of seeing each other on borrowed time.

There are reminders of course, Eames can't bury his head in the sand for everything. The way Arthur's eyes go wide and panicky when his phone rings, how Eames can't always reach him and knows his number isn't even saved anywhere in it, how Arthur shies away when Eames bites too hard or sucks on his skin for too long. Eames has never been the type of twat who needs to mark his territory but he would give anything to suck one single bruise on that pale skin. Maybe then something would break and they could stop this living in limbo. 

Then there are the bruises he didn't give. The ones on Arthur's hips and thighs make Eames stomach hurt and close his eyes. It always makes him fuck harder and faster, reaching for that spot that makes Arthur scream. He figures if he can't erase the bruises, then he can at least fuck the memory of anyone else out of him. It's twisted, he knows. 

The worst were the finger shaped bruises on Arthur's upper arm. He pressed his hand gently into the shape, his thumb dwarfing the other man's imprint. It had taken almost an hour of Arthur pleading and taking his keys to stop Eames from flying out the door to smash the idiot's face in.

So he could pretend for a little while, until something inevitably brought him back to reality. 

*** 

In between those times it's the happiest Eames has ever been with somebody and he chooses not to think too hard about how fucked up that might be. In fact, most of the time he tries not to think about it at all and just carries on pretending.

*** 

Arthur is lying on Eames' bed face down, too fucked out to move. He can feel Eames tracing patterns on his back and mouthing lazily at his shoulder. He's mostly gotten used to Eames' lack of personal boundaries, the way he always has to be touching. When he sees Arthur for the first time, he surges up against him like Arthur is the tide and Eames can't help himself. Arthur pretends to be annoyed, teasing Eames about being his security blanket. He secretly loves it though, he feels grounded and safe with Eames' hands on him.

Arthur peeks at the clock and sighs, burrowing his head further into the pillow. He hates how he has to count the hours while he's with Eames. I have two more hours before I have to leave. One more. Thirty minutes. Five. It happens every single time. He hates himself for doing this to Eames, and even Robert. He spends full days wandering around his apartment, berating himself for being a coward and generally just a terrible human being. Why can't he just make a decision without hurting himself or someone else?

"Penny for your thoughts, darling?" Eames murmurs.

Arthur definitely does not want to talk about what's actually on his mind, so he turns his head to face Eames. 

"What's with all the pet names?" He asks instead. 

Eames raises his eyebrow and pauses, knowing this is not what Arthur was actually thinking. Thankfully, he lets it slide. 

"Whatever do you mean, poppet?" He laughs at Arthur's frown. 

"You know what I mean. All the 'dah-lings' and 'luvs' and 'pets'." Arthur attempts a truly terrible imitation of Eames' accent. 

"Oh darling, please don't ever do that again. You're butchering my mother tongue." 

"Shut up. " He swats lazily at Eames' bicep. 

"Why, do you not like them? I can try different ones. How about...'Puddin' Pie?'" He does a dead on Southern drawl. 

Arthur props himself up on one elbow and glares down at Eames. "I'm from New York, Eames. If you call me pudding pie, I will shank you and leave you in a dirty alley to bleed out." 

"Fine, fine. How about...'sweetheart'?" He switches to the drawn out vowels of Staten Island this time. 

"Closer...you sound like girls I went to high school with." Arthur flops back down grinning. 

"Oh...I have the perfect one. You are my little 'punim'." He reaches out to pinch Arthur's cheeks, who swats him away.

"No way, you sound like my Bubbe now. That is _not_ hot." 

"What in God's name is a 'Bubbe'?" Eames frowns at Arthur. 

"It's my Grandmother, asshole." 

"Oh right, yes not hot at all. So shall I stick to what I know then, hmmm darling?" Eames gathers Arthur up against him and bites gently on the spot behind his ear, and Arthur shudders and rolls his hips up against Eames' own. 

"Yeah, what you know sounds good." Arthur already sounds a little breathless. 

*** 

"You're telling me you've never topped?" Eames asks, incredulous. 

"Yes Eames, that's what I'm telling you. For the twentieth time." Arthur rolls his eyes. 

This is how Eames finds himself on his back with Arthur between his knees. Arthur is biting his lip and pushing into Eames at a much too slow pace. He keeps glancing up at Eames, questioning, making sure he's doing it right. Every time, Eames nods and smiles encouragingly, secretly thinking that maybe this had not been one of his better ideas. It's been a long time for him and it's a little painful even at the glacial pace that Arthur's taking it. And truth be told, Arthur isn't actually very good at this, all fumbling hands and hesitant pauses. 

Until Arthur bottoms out. Then Eames changes his mind. Arthur is bloody gorgeous like this. He's holding his breath and his eyes are shut tight. His whole chest is red and blotchy, traveling up to his neck and cheeks. His hands tighten on Eames' hips while his own spasm a little, like he can't decide whether he's ready to move. 

Eames runs his hands up Arthur's ribcage in a soothing way, grinning and mentally congratulating himself. He always has the best ideas. 

"Breathe, pet. Breathe." 

Arthur lets his breath out in one long gust and licks his lips, adjusting his position slightly. 

"Eames." Arthur's voice is scratchy and barely a whisper. He's holding himself still and uttering little moans when Eames pulls his knees back to his chest, allowing Arthur to slip in deeper. 

"How do you do this all the time? How do you not just come as soon as you're in?" Arthur breathes, still trying not to move. 

"Practice, darling. Now…please move." He punctuates that by putting his fingers on the wall behind his head, and fucking down onto Arthur's cock. Arthur's eyes fly open and he growls, which delights Eames to no end, and starts frantically pumping into Eames' hole without any rhythm or finesse. It's enough, though, that Eames' only needs one or two pulls on his own cock before he's coming right after Arthur. 

"Seriously, you have the best ideas." Arthur lies on top of Eames, completely useless and limp. 

"I know. I am brilliant." Eames crows and cards his hands through Arthur's curls, scraping them back from his sweaty forehead. 

*** 

They've had this same conversation many times. Arthur refuses to call it an argument because neither of them raise their voices or slam doors. It's a discussion, maybe a debate, but definitely not an argument. 

"Eames, I can't just up and leave. I'd have no money and no home. Nothing." 

"You wouldn't have nothing, darling. You'd still have me, and your friends." 

"I have one friend, and I am not going to impose on either of you, ok? I don't have a job, I dropped out of school, and I still owe student loans. I'm not going to move in with you Eames, for God's sake." 

"I never asked you to move in with me. I'm not interested in being your rebound sugar daddy or whatever." 

Arthur winces but doesn't say anything. If it made Eames feel better to be nasty, then the least Arthur could do is take it. It was Arthur's fault they were in this situation in the first place.

"I just don't understand, my love. You can do anything. Be anything. You are a force of nature, but you won't believe in yourself. I believe in you. Ariadne believes in you." 

"Thank you, Eames. I wish I could believe you." He lets his head fall onto the back of the couch and looks up at the ceiling. He doesn't deserve someone like Eames, he should just man up, break it off, and go back to Robert and his life before Eames. The mere thought of not having Eames in his life makes his chest hurt, though. He isn't about to come and stay with Eames and expect him to take care of him. He doesn't have much to offer, and he doesn't want to be a burden that Eames would eventually come to resent. And he definitely would; Robert told him all the time how much trouble he was to put up with. 

He feels a tentative touch, and then Eames is suddenly straddling his lap. Eames settles slowly with his knees tucked in next to Arthur's legs and leans in to kiss him. It's dry and quick, before Eames wraps his hands around Arthur's waist tucking them in between the small of his back and the couch. 

"I'm so sorry." Arthur whispers, fighting back tears. 

Eames only makes shushing noises, and squeezes him closer. 

*** 

They're in the supermarket debating over what to eat when Edith Piaf comes on over the loudspeakers. Arthur only has a moment to wonder about such a cultured choice for the produce section when Eames sweeps him up and twirls him around the barrels of nuts and legumes. He sings softly in Arthur's ear, making goose bumps rise across his arms. 

"Non, rien de rien. Non, Je ne regrette rien."

He spins and dips him deeply, leaning in for a kiss. When he pulls back, before letting Arthur up, he thumbs at his mouth and smiles. "I love you, darling." 

Eames eyes widen comically and he almost drops Arthur. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry." 

"Eames, don't be. Hey." Arthur grabs Eames' face, and forces him to look at him. "I love you, too." 

At first Eames looks overjoyed, his eyes sparkling, and a smile spreading across his face. He kisses Arthur, hard and fierce. When he pulls back, he's still smiling, but it looks a little sad to Arthur. 

"What? What's wrong?" He asks, fear shooting up his spine all of a sudden. 

"Nothing, my dearest. " He sighs and turns away, reclaiming their cart and pushing it past the tomatoes and around the corner. When Arthur catches up to him, all traces of melancholy have been wiped from his face, and he's cheerfully flirting with the meat vendor. Arthur can tell that underneath his coat his shoulders are tense, and his smile is false. 

*** 

Eames returns from the storage area, lugging a box of more Blue Moon for the bar. He smiles briefly at Yusuf before he bends down to restock the bottles in the ice. It takes him a moment to realize something is wrong when Yusuf hasn't smiled back but looks back at him with panic written on his face. 

He straightens up and quirks an eyebrow at his best friend. Yusuf shakes his head and turns to a customer, clearly avoiding Eames' unspoken question. Eames relaxes a little, they aren't being robbed or anything crazy like that. So what could be bothering him, then? 

He turns and surveys the bar, catching sight of a familiar set of shoulders and smiles, realizing Arthur has come to see him. They aren't supposed to see each other tonight and it's a pleasant surprise, until the crowd shifts and standing next to Arthur is that wanker, Robert. Eames' jaw clenches and he sees Yusuf watching him out of the corner of his eye. He makes himself relax, this is his place of business and he has to act like it. He shrugs at Yusuf and goes back to stocking the beer. Hidden behind the bar, he's able to compose himself a little better and face whatever's going to happen. He dusts his hands off, and stands again. To his chagrin, Arthur and Robert are heading his way, Arthur lagging behind and clearly miserable. Eames puts on his best customer service smile, and leans on the bar. 

"What can I get for you, mate?" He asks Robert cheerfully, inwardly he already has the man tackled to the floor and is knocking his lights out. 

Robert orders some ridiculous fruity cocktail and frowns when Arthur asks for just a coke. Eames gets their order and opens a tab, not once looking at Arthur, who keeps trying to catch his eye. They move off to the tables, and Eames let out a huge breath and makes a point to flirt outrageously with every one of his customers, gathering a few phone numbers and even some more forward sexual advances. Eames turns them all down with a smile that promises possibilities. He catches Arthur's eye a few times, and he looks pained, which gives Eames a petty thrill. What the fuck does he want from him anyway? 

*** 

Arthur knows that Eames is trying to make a point. He also knows he doesn't have a leg to stand on when he's sitting next to his boyfriend. It doesn't mean that hurts any less when Eames leans a little too close to a tall redhead and wraps an arm around her waist, and whispers into her ear. Arthur closes his eyes and turns back to Robert who is blatantly eye fucking some guy in spandex hot pants across the room from them.

He wants to leave, but Robert insists that they stay. After a while Arthur fakes a stomach ache, feeling like a little kid who doesn't want to go to school. Robert sighs and goes to pay the tab, while Arthur waits by the door. He doesn't see Eames anymore, or the redhead. He feels like he just might start crying in the middle of club with P!nk blaring over the speakers. And that's just too pathetic for words. 

When they get the car, Arthur knows he needs to talk to Eames, and isn't sure when the next opportunity will be. Or if Eames will even talk to him. He swallows and pushes that thought away. 

"Oh, shit." He exclaims, patting his pants pocket. 

"What now?" Robert huffs, rolling his eyes.

"I think I left my cell phone in there." 

"Damn it Arthur. You can't keep track of anything. Don't think I'm buying you another one if you've lost it. Go." He waves his hand and slips into the driver's seat, starting the engine. 

"I know. I'm sorry, I'll be right back." Arthur sprints back across the parking lot, and skids to a stop at the door. He impatiently shows the bouncer his stamp and shoves his way back inside. He still doesn't see Eames, so he goes around to the back door like he had the first time he met Eames, and shoves it open. 

"Eames!" 

He's relieved to have find him, and barely notices Yusuf leaning on the wall next to him. Mostly, he's happy that it isn't some redhead, or any one of the people Eames has been flirting with all night long. 

Eames looks up, his jaw clenching. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't walk away either. Arthur approaches him with his hands held out. 

"I'm sorry, he insisted on coming here. I tried to make him change his mind. I'm so sorry Eames." 

"I don't really want to hear this right now, Arthur." Eames flicks his cigarette across the parking lot. 

It stings that Eames uses his actual name. He almost never calls him that and it makes tears prickle behind his eyes. 

"Please, Eames. Please don't be mad at me." He can feel his control slipping and his breath coming in gasps, as tears escape down his cheeks. 

"Look." Eames pauses, and takes a deep breath. "I don't want to hear this right now. We can talk later." 

"Okay...yeah. Later. "Arthur nods frantically, ready to agree to anything. He reaches out to grab Eames' hands, who dodges him and starts up the metal stairs back into the club. "Wait, Eames. Please. Please." It isn't enough, he has to explain himself, but he can't seem to do anything but beg and cry. He starts toward him again, but is brought up short by Yusuf. 

Yusuf sticks his finger in Arthur's face. "No. Arthur. Go the fuck home. Right now, mate." 

Arthur can only gape at Yusuf. Previously, he's always thought of Yusuf as Eames' bumbling, nerdy sidekick. He's never seen him like this, eyes cold with fury and unflinching refusal to let Arthur pass him. Behind him, at the top of the stairs, Arthur can see Eames pressing his the heels of his hands into his eyes, his shoulders hunched over. Eames takes a deep breath, and without looking back, he swings the door open and disappears inside. 

Yusuf crosses his arms and waits for Arthur to turn around and walk away. Arthur scrubs at his face with his hands, and tries to compose himself before he gets to the car. Either the car is too dark, or Robert really doesn't give a shit; either way he doesn't say anything, just nods when Arthur waves his phone, which has been in his pocket the whole time, at him. 

Robert drops Arthur off outside his door, without coming in. 

"Let me know when you feel better. I don't want to get sick." Robert says as he checks his hair in the mirror, combing it over to one side, not even acknowledging Arthur's pathetic nod. 

Once inside, Arthur tries to call Eames but it goes to voicemail and his text goes unanswered. He falls asleep on his couch with his phone on his chest, waiting for it to ring. 

*** 

Eames knows he can't do this any more. He doesn't want to be Arthur's escape or dirty little bit on the side. He loves Arthur to his very core. It shakes him sometimes, how very much he loves the little idiot. That doesn't change the fact that no matter what Arthur says about loving him back, he can't do it. He has to end it before both of them get hurt. Or get hurt any more than they already have. He hadn't slept last night, haunted by Arthur's tear stained face and desperate pleading. 

He paces across the room, acting out how the conversation will go, in his head. Every time, he never gets past the actual break up. He can't even say it in his head, how is he going to do it with Arthur standing in front of him? He startles as the doorbell rings and takes a fortifying breath, before opening the door and letting Arthur in. 

Arthur looks exhausted and nervous. He bites at his lower lip and rocks back on his heels. He reaches for Eames, and then stops himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

"Thanks for calling me." He says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Eames swallows and nods. 

"Well, we needed to talk." 

"I know, and I'm so sorry. I really couldn't stop him..." He stops when Eames holds up his hands. 

"I don't need you to apologize any more. I don't want to hear it, Arthur. " 

"What does that mean?" Arthur's lower lip trembles a little before he bites back down on it, worrying it between his teeth. 

"It means, Arthur, that we are done. I can't do this anymore. I'm not some kind of play thing. I can't put my life on hold and live for the moments when you decide I'm worthy enough to make an effort for." He's proud of how steady his voice sounds. After Arthur leaves, he's going to drink, a lot, and have himself a good cry. He just has to get through this. 

"What? That's not how it is, Eames. You are _always_ worthy." Arthur blinks, looking completely stunned. He's silently crying, and Eames almost gives in right there. He feels physical pain over seeing that look on Arthur's face. 

"I just can't anymore. This isn't fair to either of us." Eames sighs and drops his shoulders. He steps closer to Arthur, pulling him in, and wraps his arms around his shoulders. How he thought he could play the hard ass here, he would never know. He tilts Arthur's chin up and wipes away the tears with his thumb. He kisses him, putting all his focus and energy into it. He knows that this will be their last kiss and he needs to remember it. The way Arthur opens with a low moan and sinks against him, how his mouth tastes like Arthur, but salty with tears too. Eames pulls back and disentangles himself from Arthur's grip. 

"We have to stop, darling. " He can feel his own tears collecting behind his eyes, and attempts to will them away, without success. Once he's able to step away from Arthur, he can't stop them from coming, tasting them at the corner of his mouth. Arthur has progressed to full, body racking sobs as he continues to plead. 

"Please, Eames. I love you. Please don't do this. I'll be better." 

"You have to go now, my love. Promise me that you'll get your life back. Don't be scared forever. Will you please do that?" 

"I will. Yes, I will do anything. Just please don't do this." Arthur continues to plead even as he backs toward the door, as though his body knows it's a lost cause, but his mouth hasn't quite caught up. 

He stands in the doorway gathering himself, his breath hitching between words. "I'm sorry Eames. Really truly sorry. I love you." 

He steps out, and shuts the door behind him. Eames finally lets himself go and sinks to the carpet, letting the tears come. He sobs quietly, his head in his hands. He repeats to himself that this is the best for both of them, although it is small comfort, until he's cried himself out, and makes his way to the couch, wrapping the afghan around himself as he falls into an exhausted sleep. And if he isn't able to bring himself to sleep in his bed for the next few weeks without Arthur, that's nobody's business but his own.


	7. Good-bye My Luckless Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strangest thing about breaking up with Eames, Arthur thinks, is how he's unable to really grieve. Besides one or two embarrassing sob fests with Ari, he has to keep it together for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [ Heather](http://theshorteststack.tumblr.com/) who is the best point (wo)man I could have asked for. From research to commas and especially to making my tummy stop hurting after mean comments. It's both of our first time and we are happy with the final product and even happier with it's reception. Thanks so much. 
> 
> Title is from [ Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsWsasqIoyk) Because it is so pretty and sad.

The strangest thing about breaking up with Eames, Arthur thinks, is how he's unable to really grieve. Besides one or two embarrassing sob fests with Ari, he has to keep it together for the most part. He has to pretend like nothing is wrong in front of Robert. As though the most devastating thing that has ever happened to him doesn't even exist.

 

That's another thing, it really is as if Eames never existed. He has no pictures to tear up in a fit and then guiltily tape back together later, no texts to re-read or voicemails to listen to. He'd always been so vigilant about not leaving a trace that he's fucked himself out of any tangible physical memories. It makes everything dream-like, as though maybe it hadn't actually happened in reality. Sometimes he thinks that if he can convince his brain that it's all in his head, then he'd be able to move on easier.

 

He's tried to talk to Ari, but she doesn't get it. She asks him over and over why he doesn't just break up with Robert. The truth is that he's scared. He's been told so many times by Robert that he'll never make it out there alone and what if he's right? He can't imagine proving him right and then have to come crawling back.

 

He's ashamed of his fear, what kind of coward he's turned into. He wasn't like this before. Before Robert. He used to be kind of a bad ass who other people feared. Now he's basically just a shell, a sad sack version of himself, molded by someone who claimed to love him.

 

He's having trouble working up any interest in anything. When Robert isn't around, he spends an exorbitant amount of time just wallowing. He lies in bed and sleeps a lot, only getting up for showers when he knows Robert is coming. He has to fake his smiles, and force conversation until Robert leaves, and it always gives him debilitating headaches and another excuse to go back to bed the minute he's alone.

 

He can't even make himself enjoy sex any more. He's always been able to compartmentalize, Robert's an asshole but he's a good lay. The one thing never mattered in order for him to appreciate the other. But now he has to grit his teeth and make sure Robert's behind him so he can't see his face. He can only come if he imagines it's Eames, and after he wrings a weak orgasm out, he feels flushed and as though his skin is too small for his body. He'd never felt guilty about sex with Eames, even though technically he'd been cheating, now having sex with his boyfriend makes him feel like he's betraying Eames somehow.

 

He feels ridiculous and stretched too thin. He's clinging to his normal life desperately but feels like he's just slipping away, inch by inch. Something's going to have to give.

 

***

 

When it finally does come to a head it comes out of nowhere. He's having a rare pleasant day, he hasn't cried once and he got out of bed at a decent hour. Not everyone would consider 11 a decent hour, but everyone can go suck it as far as Arthur is concerned. Baby steps. He isn't even completely dreading Robert coming over in an hour. Maybe I'm over the worst of it. Maybe things will get better. Or at least go back to normal, he thinks, as he puts clean sheets on the bed. He's even singing quietly to himself without realizing it.

 

He goes to greet Robert when he comes in, his smile slipping off his face when he sees Robert's scowl.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing. I just have to go see my father after this. I'm sure so he can tell me how disappointed he is in me. Again."

 

"Oh that sucks, I'm sorry, babe." Arthur rubs the back of Robert's neck, and kisses him on the cheek. Robert makes a frustrated noise and pushes Arthur off of him. Arthur, surprised, stumbles back and goes head over heels over the ottoman and bashes into the coffee table face first. He blinks back tears and gingerly touches his cheek, it feels tender and he knows he'll have a bruise there soon.

 

He looks up at Robert who's just scowling down at him. "What, are you going to cry? Don't be a baby."

 

"You hurt me, Robert." Arthur admonishes, cradling his cheek.

 

"It was an accident. Jesus Christ, Arthur. What do you want? I'm sorry. Okay. Move on." Robert flops into the armchair, his arms crossed, and he looks so put out that Arthur is reminded of a toddler who hasn't gotten their way.

 

This is what I lost Eames for. The thought floats unbidden to the front of his mind and he's immediately furious. Rage at Robert for being such an unbelievable douche, but really more rage at himself for putting up with it, and putting Eames through it. He struggles to his feet and goes into the kitchen, taking steadying breaths. He pulls a bag of peas out of the freezer, and presses it to the side of his face. Tears are leaking out of his swollen eye. He's such an idiot. He cannot believe this is his life. He's screaming internally, and when Robert calls out to him to bring him something to drink and 'what's taking him so long', Arthur officially loses it.

 

He throws the bag of peas at Robert's head, and before he can respond, bends at the waist so they're face to face. He wraps long fingers around Robert's shoulders and says in a quiet deadly voice.

 

"Fuck you, Robert." He stands back up, and all of the anger drains out of him; he's happy for the first time in weeks. He feels calm and right. He feels no more fear or hesitation. He is well and truly done with this.

 

He smiles down at Robert who gapes confusedly at him, his mouth working in and out as though he's trying to form some sort of response.

 

"I'm going to go get my stuff." He stands in the doorway, his hands gripping the door frame. His eyes skip over the clothes and knick-knacks. He realizes in one wild moment that none of this is his, and he doesn't want any of it. He'll be walking out of this door with just the clothes on his back. He thrills a little at literally starting over from scratch. Nothing from his own life will go with him. Now he's grateful he has nothing here to remind him of Eames, because he doesn't want any of it.

 

He walks back into the living room where Robert is standing, his arms crossed.

 

"Are you kidding me? You won't make it five minutes out there. You have nothing, you basically are nothing without me."

 

Arthur shrugs. "Maybe so, Robert. But I intend to find out on my own."

 

"If you leave. You can't come back. I can find twenty of you. You're not special." Robert's face is red and something that sounds like desperation is bleeding into his tone.

 

Arthur just smiles and shakes his head. "I understand, Robert. Thanks for..." He tries to come up with something nice to say. "Thanks for the experience."

 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

 

Arthur doesn't respond, he just attempts to hand Robert the keys but, when Robert won't reach for them he drops them onto the coffee table. He leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

 

***

 

Once outside he exhales a shaky breath, out of habit he reaches for his phone; remembering he's left it inside he panics a little. 

 

What the fuck are you doing!? He half turns to go back, before he straightens and walks purposefully toward the sidewalk. You can do this. Just think for a minute.

 

The only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn't want to be dithering on the sidewalk when Robert decides to leave, so he turns left and starts walking. He gets a few blocks away, turning corners here and there so he can leave the main street behind, just in case. He stops and flops down on a bench at the first bus stop he comes to. He pulls out his wallet, and wonders if he should use one of Robert's credit cards, just this one last time. He really doesn't want to do that, imagining the smirk on Robert's face when he gets the bill. He flips it open and his eyes catch on the bus pass. The bus pass that Eames had insisted he get. Because...”grown ups without their own cars have bus passes, darling.”

 

He mentally thanks Eames for having been so pushy, and waits patiently for the next bus. He has no idea where it's going, but he gets on anyway, content to just ride around in silence and get his shit together.

 

***

 

He ends up in front of Eames' door. He's surprised he hadn't realized this was where he was heading from the very start. It's dark and he hopes that Eames isn't working tonight. He takes a deep breath and knocks.

 

It takes a minute and a muffled shout of "coming!" from inside before the door swings open. Eames' stoop is dark, and he has to peer out, squinting before he recognizes Arthur. He looks as though he's warring between a smile and frown. He finally settles on a deep frown, causing Arthur's heart to sink a little.

 

"Arthur. What can I do for you?" Eames asks, holding the door open just enough to be civil.

 

"Can I come in? I have to talk to you." Arthur tries to dredge up some of the calm he'd had just minutes ago.

 

Eames scrubs a hand across his face and silently pulls the door wider, padding on bare feet back into the flat. Arthur follows him, pausing to close the door and gather his courage.

 

Eames stands in front of a canvas, using a cloth to clean his brush; the smell of paint and turpentine overwhelming. Up close, Eames looks terrible, the t-shirt Arthur remembers as pulling tightly across Eames' shoulders hangs a little loose, dark circles under his eyes and the beginnings of a beard complete the picture. He still looks breathtaking, Arthur thinks his mind hasn't done him justice and all he wants is to touch him, but he can't. Not yet. He smiles with one side of his mouth, imagining how thrilled Eames will be when he tells him his news. How the night will end in Eames' bed, and tomorrow will be the start of something new.

 

Eames isn't talking, he just stares at Arthur patiently until he starts to feel a little silly standing there grinning for no apparent reason.

 

He steps closer to Eames and heartens when Eames doesn't back up.

 

"I did it. I finally did it, Eames."

 

"Did what?" Eames pauses in his cleaning and bites his lip.

 

"I broke up with Robert. We can be together now." He winces at how clichéd that sounds.

 

"Is that what happened to your face?" Eames asks quietly.

 

"Well, kind of. It was an accident. No big deal though. It doesn't even hurt any more." Arthur's confused. He hadn't expected confetti or dancing, but he'd at least thought there'd be more than this still and quiet Eames, who's clenching his jaw so hard he has a tic jumping along its side.

 

"Arthur, what do you want from me?" Eames puts the brush down, and clasps his hands behind his back.

 

"What?" The question doesn't even make sense to Arthur, he doesn't know how to answer it.

 

"What do you want? I'm happy for you that you finally broke up with your boyfriend. Truly. But what's that got to do with me?"

 

"But...I can be with you now." Arthur's shaking his head back and forth, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

"Can you now?" Eames smirks and quirks an eyebrow. "Well, that's not going to happen. I'm not going to be your rebound. Go and live your life, Arthur."

 

Eames turns as though the discussion is over. Arthur feels like he can't breath, his head is swimming, and he blinks back his tears. God, he's so tired of motherfucking tears.

 

"But...I love you." He whispers.

 

"Be that as it may, Arthur. I'm not interested in being just another Robert to you." He still isn't looking at Arthur, and is making a show of eyeing his painting, another brush in hand.

"It wouldn't be like that. I promise."

 

"You can't know that." Eames hums, his tone disinterested.

 

"I don't understand." Arthur hangs his head and twists his fingers together.

 

"It's really not that complicated. I'm not interested in a relationship with you." Eames has finally turned around, and Arthur thinks he catches a look of pain cross his face before it goes back to being as blank as before.

 

"If you'd please show yourself out. I have work to do. Go to Ariadne, she's worried about where you are."

 

Arthur is crushed. His whole body aches, and he can't think of anything to say that will change this. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he can't stop crying, or catch his breath. He pauses before opening the door, looking back hopefully, but Eames is turned away. He hasn't painted even one stroke, he's just staring at the half finished canvas. Arthur lets himself out for the last time, and trudges back out into the night. Huddled into the corner of the night bus, his cheek throbbing and his tears drying up, he begins the slow, painful process of shutting himself down. He isn't going to feel like this ever again. He tucks it all back into his chest, behind his ribcage, where he won't need it any more.

 

***

 

Eames swipes at his eyes and grabs his phone off the counter as soon as he hears the door shut. He clears his throat as he waits through the ringing on the other end.

 

"Eames! Did you find him? Robert has stopped answering the phone." Ari's voice is high and panicked through the receiver.

 

"Yeah. I found him. Or he found me, rather." His voice is rough with unshed tears.

 

"Oh thank god. Let me talk to him."

 

"He's not here, I sent him on his way to you." He grips the phone tighter when he remembers the pain, pain that he'd caused, breaking across Arthur's face.

 

"Did you tell him?"

 

"Yeah, I told him I didn't want to be with him, and I was cruel, and I made him cry." Eames berates himself.

 

"I'm sorry. I wish I could just tell him the truth."

"Ariadne. You can't do that." He raises his voice without thinking.

"I know, I know. And it's for the best right?" Her tone is placating.

"Yes, ducky. It is. He has to live his own life. And I'm not..." His voice breaks. "I can't be part of it."

 

"You are really the best thing that's ever happened to him. I hope you know that."

 

Eames barks out a bitter laugh. "Well, I expect that Arthur won't agree with you on that."

 

"He'll understand, eventually. "

 

"Yeah." He has to get off the phone before he breaks down. "Well, I have to go. Have to use all this angst while it's fresh. For my art and all that."

 

After ringing off he doesn't cry. His breath hitches a few times, threatening tears, but he feels beyond that. His despair has settled into his bones, something he knows he'll carry around forever. The load might lessen as time goes on, but it's etched deep enough that he won't forget entirely. He spends the rest of the night filling canvases with dark heavy lines and long-fingered hands. He's never painted so much all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I am sorry for the angst. *hands out tissues and ice cream* Heather has a fainting couch set up in the corner if you need it. It's not truly done though, I am going to write more. So I hope that helps.

**Author's Note:**

> I already think my tenses are jacked up. So again please let me know any errors, and any critic is always welcome.


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